Driving Doctor Mayhem

[6] Super-villain-dom

A few minutes later, the two of us were piled into the Camry and headed back to the office, with the yet-to-be named kitten in Doc's lap.

I took his advice from earlier that day, and broke the silence once we started moving. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly do you do?" I said, smiling nervously. The smiling was more of a reflex than anything. I'd found across years of trial-and-error that people were much less likely to snap at you if you were smiling at them first.

It didn't work. Doc's eyebrows crinkled as he tried to keep the cat from jumping off of his lap and onto the dashboard. "Shouldn't you have asked me that in the interview?"

"Shouldn't you have told me in the interview?"

"I don't cater to slow wits. So, no, actually."

I huffed, annoyed. "Just answer the question, hm?"

"What, now?"

"Answer the question, please," I said through gritted teeth, white-knuckling the wheel of the car.

"Why, you seem tense, dear."

"I swear to you I will run us off this road."

"Not the best quality in a chauffeur, if I'm being honest."

I turned the wheel just slightly enough to cause the Camry to drift closer to the center lines. Doc, moved by human instinct as opposed to cool detachedness as-per-usual, gripped his armrests, sinking back into his seat cushion.

"If you must know," he said, "I'm a super villain, Miss Banks."

It came out casually, in the same bored time with which mother would say, 'I'm a hairdresser', or Cricket would say, 'I'm a cashier'.

"Obviously," Doc added, as if it was obvious.

Oh, you know, I'm a super villain. So, how about that rain we had last night, hm?

The title Doctor Mayhem was making more and more sense at that point, needless to say.

"At least, I'm trying to be one. Rome wasn't built in a day. Luckily for me, I am incredibly intelligent. I just need a good henchman." He resumed petting the kitten like a person who hadn't just made an insensitive comment.

"Just so we're on the same page: I am your PA; I am not your henchman."

"I pay you a small salary, and in return, you do whatever I tell you to," he scoffed. "And with as little attitude as possible. They're one and the same."

"How come you get to give me attitude?"

"Because I hired you despite the fact that you blabbered for fifteen minutes about your unfulfilled dreams in lieu of an actual interview.'"

"Like you had any other applicants. Your ad was God-awful."

"I only wanted people who were desperate for work. I understand that they resign less often."

"Can we negotiate henchman, though? That seems a little cruel."

"What about sidekick?"

"Equally condescending."

"By design."

"I refuse."

"I refuse your refusal."

"I refuse the refusal of my refu--"

"This could go on for a while," he interrupted. "We'll put a pin in it. I have a headache."

"So," I whispered, after a stretch of quiet, "Why do you need a cat?"

"All super villains have cats. Everyone knows that," Doc snapped irritably, rubbing his temple. "Often Persians. They're intimidating."

"Why?"

"Ask Ernst Stavro Blofeld."

"Seems a little on-the-nose."

I took my eyes off the road for a second to glance at the kitten, who was now licking her paw and rubbing it on her face, purring loudly. She wasn't very intimidating, that's for sure. And neither was Doctor Mayhem.

Snotty, yes.

Plus, even though villains don't have the best reputations--what, with their tendency to plot world domination and all--and even though I could practically hear Cricket's stutter in my head, using awful phrases like 'Sketchville' and 'Sketch Junction,' I was interested.

Moreover, I was being paid.

That's why, instead of wrinkling my nose in disgust like a sensible person, I raised an eyebrow and said, "What's that like, then? Super-villain-dom?"

Doc didn't pause for a single beat. "It'll be easy when all of the heroes in Jiminyville are raging morons," he scoffed, spitting the word 'heroes' like was a swear. "First on the list, whoever named it 'Jiminyville' in the first place. It would be difficult to think of a worse name for a city. Bang, moron. Secondly, that mayor of ours, Collodi. Not a drop of common sense. Bang, another moron."

Says the narcoleptic man running around claiming to be a super villain and buying stray kittens.

"You know," I piped up, "I sneezed in the Mayor's food once."

Doc didn't show any sign of listening, yanking the volume knob on my car radio all the way down. "Riff raff, this new age music. It's for the birds."

"That was white noise. You hadn't picked a channel."

"Oh, look who suddenly knows everything."

"But--"

"I take it back. The talking is not good. Shut up again."